


The Cold Heart Still Trembles

by Trinity-Candles (Trinitychaos)



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7642309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinitychaos/pseuds/Trinity-Candles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the attack on Beacon, Weiss is taken back home to Atlas by her father where she is prohibited from contacting her teammates and from continuing her Huntress training. Now under the close supervision of her father, Weiss has to figure out a way to get stronger and escape from Atlas to reunite team RWBY. </p><p>Meanwhile, with the world looking for someone to blame, Ironwood is stripped of his power, his rank, and his influence with the Atlas kingdom. Alone and disgraced, the former general tries to find a way to atone for his past mistakes.</p><p>When the two cross paths, a partnership is born: Weiss demands that the former general train her in secret to prepare her for their enemies and her reunion with her friends. Ironwood agrees with the hope of finally doing some right in the world through Weiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cold Heart Still Trembles

**Author's Note:**

> _I survived, but I paid for it_
> 
>  
> 
> _Now I’m the villain in your history_  
>  _I was too young and blind to see_
> 
>  
> 
>   _I should’ve known_

The council room was large, its high ceiling and limited furnishing making the room's size seem vast. The room more often than not went unused, only necessary when Atlas' three council members were required to meet each other personally in an enclosed space. Or, in even rarer cases, a trial needed to be addressed by the three higher-ups. As was such the case today.  
  
James stood in the middle of the council room, his hands folded behind him in parade rest. Behind him, unnervingly silent, sat two pews worth of Atlesian soldiers. All of them had once been under his command. Before James sat the Atlas council. The kingdom's three council members' stands rose above James, requiring the man to strain his neck to look up at them.  
  
All three of them wore stoic expressions.  
  
“General James Ironwood,” Council member Thokcha, who sat in the middle, announced. “You are here on the suspicion of aiding the enemy and illegal trading of Atlas military property. How do you plead?”  
  
James kept his voice firm. “Not guilty.”  
  
Calcite, seated to Thokcha's right, hummed. “To your defense multiple accounts from your men conclude that you have not engaged in any suspicious behavior lately.”  
  
“Except for your unusual request to bring your army to Beacon in the first place.” The final council member, Frost, piped in.  
      
“Headmaster Ozpin had reason to believe the extra security might be necessary.” James informed them.  
      
Frost raised a brow. “And yet we heard Ozpin wasn't exactly thrilled with you being in charge of security for the Vytal Festival.”  
      
“Ozpin and I-” James stopped short to find the right words. “-share differing ideas when it comes to security.”  
      
“Whatever the reason, our biggest concern is the fact that your Atlesian Knights and Paladins were in the control of our enemies.” Thokcha said. “You claimed it would have been impossible to gain access to such things.”  
      
James bowed his head in agreement. “Impossible for anyone outside of Atlas' military. And even then, they would need approval from a high ranking officer.”  
      
“So you see our problem, General Ironwood.” Calcite said. “The last thing the citizens of Remnant saw was your machines harming innocents. Machines which you would have the easiest access to.”  
      
“Not to mention...other events that occurred during the Vytal Festival that may not have painted you in such a great light.” Frost added.  
      
Thokcha raised her hand to silence the other two.  
      
“We've already spoken to the council members of Vacuo, Mistral, and Vale and we've come to an agreeable solution to this situation. To ease the fear of the world's people and until it is discovered how our enemies are gaining access to our forces, we are suspending your rank of general and revoking your level 8 clearance. Furthermore, we are having you step down as Atlas Academy's headmaster.”  
  
Frost spoke up. “The other council members have also asked that you do not leave Atlas' boarders. If you are found on foreign soil, Ironwood, that kingdom will have full jurisdiction of your punishment.”  
  
James fought the urge to fidget. They were keeping him out of the public. That was good. That was smart. It was a way to reassure the public without having to actually arrest him. James knew he was getting off relatively easy but that didn't stop the uncomfortable tightening in his stomach.  
      
“Please understand, Ironwood, this is only temporary. Just until everything has settled.”  
      
James nodded, staring just past the council members but never making eye contact with any of them. He understood perfectly. The world was in panic, confusion running rampant across the kingdoms. They had been cut off from Vale, left in the dark, but not before they saw Atlas' machines attack the very people they were designed to protect. Not before the calm, clear voice poised the daunting question: _“Who do you think you can trust?”_  
      
In the end it didn't even matter how James tried to explain what had occurred; the rest of Remnant had already drawn their own conclusions. It certainly didn't help that the image of Penny – the moment of strings pulling taut around the body of a young girl – still played in everyone's minds. If he had hid her existence, they whispered, what else could he be hiding?  
      
They needed a face to place the blame, and his had been the biggest target.  
      
“Do you have any further questions or concerns you'd like to address?” Council member Thokcha asked him.  
      
James shook his head. “No, ma'am.”  
      
“Then this meeting is adjourned.” The sound of her gavel hitting the firm wood of the stand echoed in the room. The air was tense and no one moved to leave. James swallowed hard, the gravity of how final the situation was at last weighing down on him, leaving him frozen in his spot.  
      
Finally, Thokcha sighed sadly.  
      
“You have served your kingdom faithfully for years, James. Your soldiers and students speak highly of you and you have proven time and time again that you are a good man.” Her brown eyes started down at him with pity. James couldn't stand to look back. “I'm sorry but this is out of our hands.”  
      
Her words seemed to set the former general free. James gave the three council members a sharp salute and turned swiftly – mechanically – on his heel to leave the room.  
  
~~  
  
Weiss used her fork to nudge at the food on her dinner plate, the thought of actually eating it making her feel sick. She stole a look at the head of the table where her father, Willow, sat eating his own dinner quietly. It wasn't often that they shared meals together – he spent most of his time either at the Schnee Dust Company Headquarters or in his office at home. But in the last couple of days since Weiss' return to Atlas he had made it a point to eat at least one meal a day with her.  
      
His presence put Weiss on edge – the way he could be so calm while Weiss sat agitated a few feet away from him. The events of the past few days went by so fast that she had difficulty focusing on one thing, leaving her mind a nervous and angry mess.  
      
Outside the dining room the sound of a door slamming open could be heard, followed by the sound of steady footfalls.  
      
Her father put his fork down and wiped at his mouth with a napkin. “It seems your sister is home.”  
      
Sure enough not a second later the doors to the dining room flew open. Winter strode into the room, her posture rigid and her face betraying her infuriated emotions. She sat herself down next to their father and across from Weiss with an irritated huff.  
      
Their father waved at a nearby maid. “Prepare another dinner plate for my daughter.” As the young woman scurried away he turned his attention to Winter. “It's been a couple of days since we last saw you, Winter. Has something happened to warrant us your unpleasant attitude?”  
      
Winter gritted her teeth. “I was just informed of General Ironwood's dismissal from the Atlas military.”  
      
Weiss' attention peaked, she hadn't heard of such news. Her father apparently had though, as he seemed unsurprised.  
      
“Ah, yes.” Willow intoned. “Such a shame. He was one of Atlas' brightest figures.”  
      
“I've also been told that, as one of the General's specialists, I will be taking up a majority of the man's duties.”  
      
Willow brightened at that, a grin spreading across his face. “That's great news, my dear!” He seemingly ignored the fact that his daughter didn't share in his enthusiasm. “I always believed you were due for a promotion. You do extraordinary work for the military.”  
      
Before Winter could comment a skittish maid approached their table and set a plate of food gently down in front of her. Willow took the time to take a sip from his wine glass.  
      
“By the way, Weiss,” The young girl looked to her father. “have you gotten back your scroll? I believe it was finished earlier this morning.”  
      
“Yes, father.” She said.  
      
“Wait a moment.” Winter looked between her father and her sister. “You took her scroll away?”  
      
Weiss couldn't help but mumble. “Without my permission.”  
      
Her father ignored her. “I saw to it that Weiss couldn't keep in contact with her...associates from Beacon.”  
      
“You did what?” Winter asked, shocked.  
      
“Their contact information was redacted and her scroll shouldn't be able to make calls outside of Atlas.”  
      
Weiss' eyes narrowed.  
      
Winter sputtered. “Father, don't you think that's a bit much?”  
      
“Not at all.” Willow said. “Keeping any ties with Beacon will ensure that Weiss never heals from the tragic events she's witnessed. It's better to cut them off as soon as possible. That's also why I've seen to it that Weiss no longer continue her combat training.”      
      
Winter's eyes grew even wider. “You've stopped her Huntress training as well?”      
      
Weiss went back to poking at her food as she tried to ignore her family's conversation. She had already heard this spiel before.  
      
Willow nodded. “What happened at Beacon is just proof that such a lifestyle only brings about danger and grief.” Her father smiled to himself. “I've suggested numerous times that Weiss should focus her efforts on a more practical skill. Her singing, in particular.”  
      
Weiss slammed her fork down on the table, the sound causing the young maid nearby to jump in surprise. Willow calmly watched his glass on the table shake from the impact before turning his gaze to his youngest daughter.  
      
“Is something the matter, Weiss?” he asked her. She continued to glare at her dinner plate.  
      
After a silent moment, Weiss breathed in deep and her grip on her fork loosened considerably.  
      
“May I be excused?” Weiss kept her voice controlled, the emotions swelling in her chest pushed down and away from sight.  
      
Willow gestured to her plate.  
      
“You've hardly eaten anything. You'll go to bed hungry.”  
      
Weiss lifted her head and smiled at her father. The stretch of her lips was tight, forced, but she kept her voice pleasant enough.  
      
“I'm just tired, father.” Weiss refused to look at her sister from across the table. She knew she'd see Winter's eyes taking her apart and analyzing every lie and expression that Weiss tried to keep under wraps. “I guess I'm still not used to Atlas' timezone yet.”  
      
Willow nodded, seeming to accept her excuse. With a quick smile and nod to the room, Weiss rose from the table and briskly walked out the door.  
      
When the door to the dining room clicked shut behind her, Weiss let out a slow breath. She needed to get to her room; she needed to be alone and away from the eyes and ears of her family and the staff. With a calmness that Weiss certainly didn't feel, she made her way through the quiet halls. Although she occasionally passed by members of the staff milling around, the click-clack of her boots against the white tiles rang the loudest in the house.  
      
It had always been unsettling, the way her home seemed to be constantly bathed in silence. Even when she and Winter had been younger the rooms had been void of any childish laughter or shrieks. And it was never a comfortable silence either. It felt like the house blocked out any sound from the outside world, like it stood isolated and frozen in its own reality. Untouchable and perfect.  
      
The silence ate at Weiss now. She missed the ambience of her dorm at Beacon. Even at its quietest moments the presence of her teammates – even the silent Blake – filled the room with an easy air. Its absence sat heavily in Weiss' heart, carving out a painful hole.  
      
At the bottom of the steps that would take her to her room, Weiss paused. The reminder of her friends – of her life away from home – seemed to make the stairs that spiraled upward a disconsolate presence. Nothing waited for her up there, not even Myrtenaster. Weiss couldn't even being to suspect where her father had hidden her rapier.  
      
Slowly Weiss made her way up the steps, her thoughts on the day her father had taken her weapon away from her. She remembered yelling as was Myrtenaster ripped out of her hands by one of her father's workers. She remembered her father's cool disposition in the face of her rage. When Weiss had paused in her shouting to catch her breath he spoke, as commanding and definitive as ever.  
      
“This is for your own protection, my dear.” He had told her. “One day you will understand and thank me.”  
      
Weiss snorted. Thank him. What a ridiculous thought.  
      
Reaching the top of the stairs Weiss pushed open her bedroom door. Her room was depressingly bare now, most of her belongings lost at Beacon. In the middle, pushed against the back wall was her bed, larger than her dorm room one and made with clean, expensive white sheets. Next to the bed was a nightstand with nothing but a lamp standing on it. Adjacent to that was her bookshelf filled with mostly old school and song books. A dresser stood across from the bed. Most of the clothes inside were new and never worn, bought by her father upon her return to Atlas. The only thing that was the same was the circular mirror attached to it. Her room's window offered access for the moon's light to shine through, painting the wall's in a light blue color.    
      
Weiss shivered as she shut the door closed.  
      
Color. This place needed color. Ruby's dark red cape, or Yang's shining hair, or Blake's contrasting black attire. Anything to wash away the sterile feel of her bedroom. Not for the first time Weiss wondered what her teammates were doing while she wasted her time at home. The last time she had seen them Ruby had been passed out in her uncle's arms, Blake was still by Yang's side whispering regrets and apologies, and Yang...Yang still hadn't awoken from her injuries. Weiss couldn't even begin to imagine her reaction to everything that had happened.  
      
And then her father had pulled her away, dragged her from her friends who were hurt and tired and mourning.  
      
A fresh bout of anger roared to life in Weiss as she recalled the scene. How dare her father take her away from her friends, her teammates, the people she vowed to protect and support. And there they had been, lying beaten on the ground and she had abandoned them. She had left them there to suffer.  
      
Weiss let out a frustrated cry as she stomped toward her bed, the carpeted floor muffling her steps into silence. Falling face first into her pillows, Weiss continued to scream out in anger and pain, emphasized by the wild kicking and flailing of her arms and legs against the mattress. She couldn't even think to be embarrassed by her childlike tantrum. All she could think of was Beacon, how its familiar grounds had been torn, invaded, and splattered with blood. And her teammates and how she had failed them.  
      
Weiss' anger slowly lost steam until all she could do was pant and hiccup. Tears burned her eyes. Her father may have been the one to take her away, but that wasn't until after everything fell apart. It was her fault that so many things went so wrong. She shouldn't have split up with Blake; she should've gone with Yang to go look for her; she should've followed Ruby up the tower. Then maybe Blake wouldn't have had to face her past alone, and maybe Yang would never have had to lose her arm. If she had been better then maybe she could've helped Ruby save Pyrrha. No one would have had to get hurt, no one would have had to die. If only she had been stronger, faster, better.  
      
The best teammate. Wasn't that what she promised her team she would be?  
      
Shifting her face away from the pillow, Weiss felt the hot tears roll down her cheeks. She needed to get stronger, she knew. And she needed to get back to her team. Weiss recalled Yang and Ruby describing their childhood home in Patch; she assumed that's where they'd be now while Yang recovered from her injuries. Blake had confided in them that she had no permanent home, so perhaps she would be in Patch with the rest of them? The last time Weiss saw her she refused to leave Yang's side. Surely that was still the case?  
      
Weiss blinked her eyes clear and sniffed. So Patch, then. She needed to get to Patch and get team RWBY back together.  
      
But first, she reminded herself, she needed to become a better Huntress. She needed to be able to prove that she could protect all of them when they next saw each other.  
      
Weiss focused on one of the song books in her bookshelf. She needed to get better. She needed Myrtenster.  
  
~~  
  
“A proposal?”  
      
Willow raised a brow at his daughter who stood before his desk, hands folded politely in front of her. Weiss' smile was small but sweet – the first one of its kind since he brought her back to Atlas – as she nodded her head.  
      
“Yes, father. I would like to make a deal for the return of Myrtenster.”  
      
Ah. Understanding ran through Willow at the mention of the rapier. He supposed he should have seen this coming. Weiss had been furious with him when he told her that he was stopping her Huntress training and so she would have no need for a weapon. While he believed her reaction to be completely immature, he couldn't quite fault her for it. She always had an irrationally sense of pride for the thing, it was one of the few of her possessions that she had personally designed after all.  
      
Still, that didn't change Willow's mind about the situation. In Weiss' current, fragile state the last thing she needed was the horrific reminders of Beacon that the rapier had attached to it.  
      
Willow steepled his fingers together on the desk. “Weiss, I will not allow for you to continue your training.”  
      
“Oh, I know.” Weiss' smile didn't flicker as she waved a hand in an unconcerned manner. “This is strictly in regards to Myrtenster.”  
      
“Is that so?” Willow shifted in his seat, interest and curiosity sparking in his eyes and posture. “And what would you need with a weapon if not for fighting?”  
      
“Sentimental reasons.” Weiss explained. “You know how long I've worked on and with Myrtenster. It feels...wrong to suddenly not have it.”  
      
Weiss' gaze fell to the floor and her hands tightened around each other. It was a sliver of vulnerability in the midst of the composed, business persona that she was displaying. Willow studied her for a moment, his head cocked.  
      
“And what do I get in this deal?”  
      
His daughter's eyes snapped back to him, the raw emotions now gone and smoothed over with faux pleasantness that Willow recognized. It was often an expression he made with his own clients.  
      
“My cooperation.” Willow, slightly surprised by the words, worked to keep his face still and gestured for her to continue. “If you return my weapon to me, I will take up singing again. Isn't that what you wanted me to do?”  
      
Willow opened his mouth to respond but was cut off.  
      
“I will also, of course, be willing to shadow you in your business practices.”  
      
_That_ certainly got Willow's attention. While it was public knowledge that Weiss would be the one to inherit the Schnee Dust Company – Winter sealing her fate with the Atleasian military – very few were aware of how difficult the younger daughter could be when it came to following in her father's footsteps and learning about the business. A phase, Willow had been sure, that would pass after he indulged her interest in becoming a Huntress and attending Beacon. While she had been away he had been briefly worried that perhaps the different atmosphere of Vale had encouraged Weiss to avoid her family responsibilities even more. But now his heir was before him, willing and ready to take her place in the world.  
      
Weiss watched him patiently. Willow cleared his throat. “And no more talk about Beacon or fighting monsters?”  
      
She nodded. “I promise you will never hear me speak of such things again.”  
      
There had been no hesitation in her answer, which meant she anticipated and prepared for his question beforehand. Willow was not ignorant enough to think his youngest daughter would ever completely forget about her time away from home, she'd probably be affected by the attack on her school for a long while. But still, Weiss performing and grooming herself to inherit the company? Surely that was worth one measly sword?  
      
“Alright, Weiss, you have a deal.” Standing from his desk, Willow offered her his hand to shake. “I'll have my assistant get in touch with your old music teacher and have your sword back by tonight.”  
      
Weiss took his hand and for the first time since coming back home, her eyes shone brightly.  
      
“It was a pleasure doing business with you, father.”  
  
~~  
  
James was no stranger to nightmares. With his years in the military combined with his years as a Huntsman, nightmare fuel could only be expected. And James' had his fair share of recurring ones:  
      
_His vision is hazy and disoriented, he can barely focus on anything in front of him, all of it just a blur of colors. Despite his lack of sight, James knows exactly where he is. The harsh breathing of his squad; the thundering growls of the stalking Grimm; the sharp pain in his leg; all remnant of one of the worst days of James' life._  
  
_There's a shift in the air and suddenly his men's screams overwhelm his senses. He doesn't think, can barely see, but he moves as quickly as he can on instinct, raising his pistol to the sound. He pushes through the pain in his leg and takes his shot._  
  
_Time seems to run differently after that, too fast for James' mind to process. The screams of his men went from terrified incoherency to his name, concern and fear dripping from it. But its drowned out by the howl of the beast before him. The monster fills James' blurred vision with black and red. James thinks maybe he can hear his own shouts among all the noise but that soon doesn't matter as agony tares through him. Weight pushes down on him, stealing away his breath and claws at his chest. It digs and digs until his flesh is bloodied and torn._  
  
_He can hear his heart beating frantically before its squeezed; squeezed and squeezed and James prays for it to stop beating so he can finally go numb from the pain..._  
  
James' eyes snapped open and panic gripped him when he found he couldn't move his body. The shadows of his room loomed over him, a black mass that kept him pinned to the bed. Nothing was there, James knew, but his body still refused to move.  
      
Calm down. He needed to calm down, erase the nightmares, focus on what was real. He needed to come back to himself.  
      
It took a few moments of controlled breathing but eventually James was able to move his arm of his own accord. He reached over to switch on the nearby desk lamp, illuminating the bedroom and staving off a little more of the nightmare and panic.  
      
Sitting up in his bed, James glanced at his night stand's clock. 4:25 am. It was still dark then. Running a hand though his hair, he groaned. It wasn't likely that he would be able to fall back asleep, no matter how tired and muddled his mind was, so James pushed himself out of bed and toward the bathroom.  
      
It wasn't the first time he'd been woken by nightmares. Usually, after showering and preparing for the day, James killed the early hours away by going through work files that needed his approval or review.  
      
He couldn't do that anymore.  
      
James sighed as he flicked the bathroom light on. A month. It had been a month since the council had seen it fit to strip away his title of both general and headmaster. A month since Atlas soldiers – some of which he recognized as his own former students, and wasn't that a punch to the gut – came into his home to confiscate anything that was now above his clearance level. Practically everything, if he was being honest with himself. Books, folders, blue prints, even his scroll had been searched and swept clean.  
      
James snorted when he recalled that they allowed him to keep his pistol. It was technically his, they had explained, since he had been the one to actually build it. They let him keep it like they were doing him some kind of favor, even when they all knew he couldn't carry it or obtain ammunition for it without drawing attention and suspicion to himself. A favor indeed.  
      
After taking a quick shower and dressing – a black turtleneck and jeans, his military uniform had been taken as well – James made his way to the kitchen. He set up his coffee pot to make himself a cup and leaned heavily against the counter as he waited for the machine to finish.  
      
He tried to think of what needed to be done for the day. The last month away from work had given James more free time than he knew what to do with. He'd spent the last few weeks cleaning every inch of his apartment – finally getting around to the chores that he'd previously been too busy to do - if only to keep his mind off his punishment. But James was running out of things to clean, he'd need to find something else to occupy his mind.  
      
The coffee machine stopped its whirring and fell silent. James poured himself a cup and set himself down on his apartment's only couch, coffee table set up in front of it. He would need to do grocery shopping soon, James thought with a grimace. Spending so much time at home meant his food supply went by a lot more quickly.  
      
James certainly wasn't looking forward to that trip. Going out into the public so soon after the news of his demotion would draw stares from both strangers and familiar faces. The thought of it made James' skin crawl with anxiety. He didn't need their looks, their fear of him, their disgust. He didn't need another reminder that he had once been a leader and spokesperson for Atlas, and he was now nothing more than a criminal to be watched. It would be just like after his accident.  
      
The sudden thought brought anger with it. James' hand tightened dangerously around his mug. How much of a coward had he become in a month that he suddenly feared the judgement of strangers? He was pushing himself back into that dark corner he had kept himself in after obtaining his prosthetics; the dark recess of his mind where every thought instilled a sense of fear and uselessness in him.  
      
And how useless he'd become now! James slammed his mug down onto the table with force and stood up with a growl. He was nothing now, wasn't he? He had no power with either the government or the military; he had lost the trust of everyone close to him; he couldn't even leave the goddamn city to go search for the ones who caused this whole mess!  
      
He had once been one of the few people in the world who knew of its dark secrets – of its legends – and the chaos that their enemies were truly capable of. And he could do nothing with any of it! He was nothing now.  
      
Hastily, James grabbed his scroll and went through his contacts, stopping at Glynda's name. He should contact Glynda and Qrow to see what their next plan of action would be. The last message sent between the three of them had been Qrow's quick, cryptic note: _I'm going to find him._  
      
He should contact them but really, he had nothing to offer them. By now they'd probably heard about his situation. James wondered if they were contemplating with each other to cut all ties with him completely. To drop his dead weight.  
      
Still, they had a right to hear it from him personally. Qrow had stressed communication with each other before – before everything went to hell – maybe this time he'd care about what James had to say.  
      
James stared hard at his scroll, trying to think of the words that would explain everything. His frustration grew every time he forced himself to backspace the words he had typed out. In all honesty, he was afraid of how Glynda and Qrow would respond. If they did decide to keep him out of the loop – and they should; James knew logically that they needed to keep doing Ozpin's work with or without him – they'd both be painfully blunt about it. None of them in their brotherhood, perhaps with the exception of Ozpin, was known for beating around the bush or keeping quiet about their opinions and criticisms. Briefly James wondered if it would be better if they never answered him at all.  
      
After finally typing out a full message, James checked it over once more:  
      
_You may have heard of my recent probation and dismissal from Atlas' military and academy. Unfortunately, this is true and, under current circumstances, unlikely to be changed. Any information or resources I could once offer you I have now lost. I'm sorry. While I cannot give you much now, if you need any assistance please do not hesitate to contact me._  
      
After a pause James added: _Stay safe, please._  
      
James pressed the send button before he could think to add or delete anything else. What happened next was up to Glynda and Qrow.  
      
As James set his scroll down next to his mug a knock sounded at his front door. James furrowed his brows in confusion. He hadn't been expecting any visitors today. It was still early, the sun barely over the horizon. The only ones who would be up at this hour were Atlesian soldiers and James couldn't recall any mention that they would be checking up on him.  
      
Making his way to the door, James looked through the eyehole. A familiar face looked back at him.  
      
James pulled open the door in surprise. “Doctor Tilia! This is a surprise. To what do I owe this visit?”  
      
Doctor Joseph Tilia stared at James with a worn out expression, dark bags under his eyes and stress lines marking his face. His thinning white hair was mussed, as if the man had run his hands through it one too many times. He gave James a grim smile.  
      
“General,” Tilia greeted before shooting a look past James' shoulder. “May I come in?”  
      
“Of course.” James stepped to the side and opened the door wider to let the older man through. He gestured him toward the living room area. “Have a seat. And please, call me James.”  
      
Although he tried to keep it off his face, being referred to by his former title made James uneasy in the current situation, especially since he had nothing to show for it. It felt almost like an insult now, a status he had failed to live up to in the eyes of the people. But if Tilia noticed James' discomfort he didn't acknowledge it. The doctor sat himself down on the far end of the couch and glanced nervously around James' apartment. His fingers tapped against his knees.  
      
James' watched the man's behavior in concern.  
      
“Is something wrong, doctor?” He asked.  
      
“Gene – James,” Tilia drew in a breath and let it out slowly, composing himself a little more. “I'm sorry for this unexpected visit, but I needed to speak with you before anyone noticed I was gone.”  
      
“It's fine but what is this about?” James' confused expression became alert as a thought came to him. “Doctor, is the Atlas council troubling you?”  
      
Tilia's face turned serious when he finally met James' eyes.  
      
“James, I need to know what you told the council in regards to Penny.”  
      
James grimaced and crossed his arms. He had tried to keep his mind off of Penny as she had been one of the more...difficult issues to work through.  
      
When he closed his eyes he could still see the bright, young girl being ripped apart by her own weapons, the very extensions of herself. He could still feel the unnaturalness of her blank stare as she shut down, a stark contrast to her usually preppy attitude. And he could still hear her voice, the way she called him 'Mister Ironwood,' slightly intimidated but friendly nonetheless. In the long list of mistakes in his life, Penny was one of his biggest.  
      
But her impact didn't stop there. The whole world had demanded answers and with Penny's remains lost in the battle of Beacon, James had been the only one who could provide them. He had planned for this, a contingency plan if Penny's true nature was revealed prematurely. He told the council he had built her; he certainly had access to the equipment to do so. He had called her an experimental weapon that he had hoped to one day share with the world. The words had made his skin run cold – partly because they were cruel descriptions for a little girl, mostly because he knew they were true.  
      
But the goal now was to keep everyone else out of the blame; keep the attention on him so no one else involved had to suffer for his incompetence.  
      
James told Tilia all of this.  
      
“I made sure they could connect nothing to you, doctor.” James said. “I never wanted to get you involved in this political mess, you have to know that. It's why I suggested giving Penny another name.”  
      
Tilia didn't seem reassured by the man's words, his posture still tight.  
      
“The Atlas council has ordered for everyone who's worked with robotics to be questioned.” Tilia told him. “They came into my lab and searched the place.”  
      
James straightened. “What?”  
      
“You may have a background in engineering, James, but the higher-ups are doubting you could create an aura generating android on your own. They think you had help.”  
      
James scowled. This wasn't supposed to happen. Tilia wasn't supposed to get involved. The council should have only focused on him.  
      
“Did they find anything?”  
      
The older man shook his head. “I hid away everything of Penny's after...after her match. But my numerous meetings with you is what makes them suspicious.”  
      
Tilia rose from the couch and walked to the room's window. He stared blankly out into the distance.  
      
“Doctor, I'm so sorry for all of this. I owe so much to you and I've done nothing but-” James cut himself off, his left hand gripping tightly around his right arm. It seemed he could do nothing but apologize lately, much to his chagrin.  
      
Tilia didn't turn to look at him and when he spoke his voice was hushed. “You dragged her into your world. She was a normal little girl and you put her right in the middle of your secrets.”  
      
James couldn't help but speak up.  
      
“We were running out of time. The Fall maiden's powers needed a new host and I believed her to be our best chance.”  
      
Tilia's hands tightened into fists. “You pulled her into your war.”  
      
“Which Penny _agreed_ to do. I never would have followed through with her weapon additions if she hadn't consented-”  
      
“She was a year old!” The doctor whirled around, his face contorted in rage and his green eyes blazing. “She was a year old, James, and you told her she could save the world!”  
      
James watched Tilia quietly, shame washing over him. He watched the way the man's face fell from anger to despair.  
      
“Who wouldn't have agreed to that, James?”  
      
It wasn't often that James found himself at a loss for words, but now he could only stare helplessly at the man who he owed his life to. How could you explain away tearing a family apart for your own agenda? You can't, he berated himself.  
      
The apartment was cast in a tense silence until Tilia wiped at his eyes, clearing away their wetness. He didn't meet James' gaze again.  
      
“I didn't come here to be angry with you.”  
      
“You have every right to be.”  
      
Tilia's smile was watery. “I am angry, don't get me wrong, but I'm old, James. And I'm tired. The world is a mess and yelling at you won't change that.”  
      
The older man moved to stand in front of James. He's smaller stature was much more obvious next to the former general.  
      
“I just came to suggest that communication between us should stop. At least until everything calms down.”  
      
James nodded, he'd seen this coming. “And what about the council?”  
      
“My association with you can be explained by my contracts with the military. As well as any possible-” Tilia gestured to James' right side. “-maintenance for yourself. I should be fine.” James stiffened when Tilia patted his shoulder. “Stay safe, James. You're the one who has fallen the hardest from all of this.”      
      
_This man is too kind for his own good,_ James thought. How could he be worried for _James_ when he was the one to take away Penny, take away his daughter?  
      
Tilia walked to the front door, pulling it open to let himself out. With one foot out the door, the doctor paused and glanced back at James.  
      
“Did you care about her? At all?”  
      
James' chest tightened painfully at that. Doctor Tilia, the man who had cared enough to work with the impossible and save his life – who had been one of his closest friends for years – believed he could be heartless enough to not...  
      
James' voice was desolate. “Yes. Of course I did.”  
      
There was no reply but he could hear the door be pulled shut. James collapsed onto the couch, his face buried in his hands. Hours seemed to pass while James sat motionless at his spot.  
      
Eventually the man moved to check his scroll. No new messages awaited him.  
  
~~  
  
Backstage was hectic as crew members rushed around to do final check-ups on the stage and equipment. Out in the orchestra pit, the swell of the ensemble could be heard practicing and tuning their instruments. It was a whirlwind to prepare for one of Atlas' biggest concerts.  
      
Weiss ignored it all as she stared at her scroll, crestfallen.  
      
“You're not coming?” Weiss asked into the scroll.  
      
Winter sighed on the other end. “I'm afraid not. I have to work late again tonight.”  
      
“But this is the third night in a row!” Weiss complained.  
      
“We expected this, Weiss.” Winter said calmly. “Not only do I have to take up some of General Ironwood's work but father has asked me to draw up more potential partnership deals between the military and the company.”  
      
“But-”  
      
“Enough, Weiss!” Winter's voice was sharp, cutting her sister into silence. After a breath of hesitation, Winter spoke again. “I promise, sister, I will attend your next concert.”  
      
Weiss nodded sadly. “Alright. Work hard, Winter.”  
      
“The same to you, Weiss. I know you will have a lovely performance. Good night.”  
      
The call ended and Weiss pocketed the scroll away, a little annoyed with the situation. It was the night of her first concert since she had left to attend Beacon. Atlas had buzzed with the news that the heiress would be singing again. Tickets to the performance had sold quickly, the theater filling its seats full within an hour. Weiss hadn't been too surprised to hear of the number of people that were attending. The citizens of Atlas had an uncomfortable fascination with the Schnee family members. She was one of their mascots, it seemed like they decided. They displayed her to the world and proclaimed, _“Look at our city's pride and joy.”_  
      
Winter had always been one of the few things that made the concert's bearable. Her sister never showered her with empty praise like the masses often did but the compliments she did give were genuine and said with love. She watched Weiss' shows with pride for her sister and not just for the Schnee name.  
      
“Weiss!”  
      
Weiss turned her head to see her father coming toward her with another man trailing behind him. The man behind her father was big. He was taller than Willow and broader as well. His black eyes shared the same color as his slicked back, long hair that curled slightly at the nape of his neck. The smile that he flashed at Weiss was razor-edged.  
      
Weiss curtsied to the two approaching men. “Hello, father.”  
      
“Weiss, I'd like to introduce you to Klykov Antonovka, CEO of Antonovka Pharmaceuticals and one of my closest friends.”  
      
Her father stepped aside to give Antonovka room to reach a hand out to Weiss. She took it gingerly.  
      
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Antonovka.”  
      
“And you.” The man's hand shake was firm and quick, retracting his hand as soon as he could. “I have to say, Miss Schnee, I'm looking forward to your performance tonight. I, unfortunately, was unable to attend any of your concerts before you left Atlas for school.”  
      
Weiss moved to speak but was interrupted by her father.  
      
“We are all glad to have Weiss back home and blessing us with her singing.” Her father laughed good-naturally. “She has her mother's voice after all, a talent that is truly a gift.”  
      
“Of course, father.” Weiss made herself giggle with him.  
      
Antonovka's eyes stayed on the younger Schnee. “And I hear you will be attending our business meetings as well. Learning the tricks of the trade?” Weiss nodded. “What a responsible young girl. I have a son doing the same now. Just another reminder that we're not getting younger now, isn't it Willow?”  
      
Antonovka nudged her father on the shoulder and they both chuckled. The smile on Weiss' face was starting to hurt.  
      
A stage hand approached the three of them. “Excuse me, ma'am but you're on in ten.”  
      
“Then we've best get to our seats.” Her father said. “Do us proud, my dear.”      
      
“Until next time, Miss Schnee.” Antonovka inclined his head and moved to follow her father back out to the front of the theater.  
      
Weiss watched them go with a pang in her chest. Ten minutes until she was needed on stage. Ten minutes until she was right back to doing what her father always wanted her to do.  
      
_It's all to see them again,_ Weiss chanted to herself in an attempt to dispel the sick feeling. It didn't quite get rid all of the fear that she was erasing all the progress she'd made in being independent from her family.  
      
“Five minutes, Miss Schnee. We need you in position.” Another stage hand informed her.  
  
Weiss placed herself at the opening behind the curtain that she would enter from. She needed to satisfy her father to even get a remote chance of seeing her teammates again. Play the part and get your reward. Weiss would sacrifice her own personal issues with her family for the sake of her friends. She had to.  
  
The theater's speakers came to life and the announcer's voice spoke over the noise of the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, Weiss Schnee.”  
      
The curtains drew apart and Weiss walked to center stage, the crowd cheering and clapping in delighted anticipation. She looked out into the crowd as the music began. So many people in one room and Weiss had never felt lonelier.  
      
She closed her eyes.  
  
_Mirror, tell me something._  


**Author's Note:**

> So yes, this is the beginning of Ironwood and Weiss' story in Atlas. I'm predicting this to be about 4 or 5 chapters, depending on how I end up splitting things up. Just as long as I get it done before Vol. 4 comes out.


End file.
